


He tastes like you, only sweeter

by cassiem



Category: Block B
Genre: Angst, Breakup, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiem/pseuds/cassiem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destruction, restoration, redemption. Woo Jiho, Block B, and Lee Minhyuk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I; Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> just a warning to all y'all zikyung shippers: you probably won't like this fic. you have been warned
> 
> idk how to describe this fic!!! zikyung breaks up and kyung heals w/ the help of block b and minhyuk! that's so lame tho
> 
> oh well you get the gist. enjoy

** **

 

* * *

 

 **Act I**  
**Destruction**

 

 _All these days I’ve been broken and hopeless_  
_And I, and I don’t feel like I’m coping, I’m hoping_  
_That I, that I can live and let go_  
_So that I can get through it_  
_Yeah, I can live and let go_  
_So I can get through this_  
_The Hilltop Hoods – Live and Let Go_

 

“Jiho, come on. We haven’t done anything in ages. Please?”

Kyung hates himself for begging, for _pleading_ , but what else can he do when Jiho has started to ignore him, is drifting away from him and into the arms of his other lover, music?

“Hyung, please. I’ve had writers block for ages now and I think I’m coming through it. Go away.” Jiho replies, not even bothering to look up from the lyrics he is scribbling furiously.

That stings, but Kyung doesn’t bother to reply. He simply gets up and leaves the studio, the stupid little shoe-box of a room that Jiho has started to rent, without saying goodbye.

He’s pretty sure Jiho doesn’t even notice.

//

Caffeine is an extreme weakness of his. He’s hooked, ever since he lived in New Zealand, where the local kids taught him that it was ‘cool’ to carry around a huge bottle of Coke. Now he’s graduated from cola to coffee, and as such, finds himself at his local coffee shop on a Saturday afternoon.

He is _trying_ to read the paper (he barely pays attention to the news, and there could have been a new world war for all he knew, so he had picked it up on a whim). It’s not really working, though. The words are swimming in front of him, rearranging themselves into a portrait of Jiho, laughing on the page.

He slams the paper down and runs his hand over his face. God fucking damn it, they’ve had their fights before, and they’ve had their distances, but never like this. This feels so damn _final_ , like Jiho has drawn a line in the sand and placed Kyung firmly on one side.

As he looks around the coffee shop, he can see all the times Jiho and he had come on their little dates here. Over there, by the drinks stand, is where Jiho kissed him out of the blue one day, looking around beforehand so no one saw, before pulling Kyung close and pressing his lips to the shorter man’s. Over there, by the counter, is where Jiho had sneakily run his hands up Kyung’s back, in a way that could be seen as friendly but was anything but.

He rubs his eyes. Coming here was a mistake. Every moment plays in his head like a movie, overlapping so that Jiho is here, in front of him, hands on the table, but he is also over there, ordering his regular coffee, but then there he is by the door.

Kyung stands up and leaves the coffee shop as quickly as he can, but even as Jiho disappears he can still _feel_ him, feel his hot breath on the back of his neck, whispering ‘I love you, Kyung’, even as he runs back to the dorm, chest heaving for air.

//

“I’m moving out of the dorm, by the way.” Jiho states, casually, over dinner.

The kimchi Kyung’s eating suddenly finds its way into his windpipe, and he can’t breathe. He coughs violently until Jihoon slams him on the back, perhaps a _bit_ more forcefully than needed, the offending piece of kimchi coming loose.

“You’re _what_?” He splutters, downing a glass of water to try and rid his throat of the burning.

Jiho looks at him, eyes slightly narrowed, in a way that Kyung knows says _‘don’t try and start anything.’_ “I’m moving out of the dorm. I rented an apartment closer to the studio.”

Kyung stares straight back, his lips twisting as he replies, “of course you have.”

The other five are looking at them, expecting an explanation for this spat, but they are given none as Kyung picks up his chopsticks again and fumbles for another piece of kimchi. If he needed any confirmation that Jiho doesn’t want him anymore, this news is it.

//

The dorm is so fucking lonely without Jiho.

He has nowhere to turn when he sees something funny on naver; no one to run to when he burns his ramen and has to make it all over again. He used to have a safe bed to crawl into at night, and the welcoming embrace of Jiho’s arms, but he is off in his shiny new apartment, probably having outrageous amounts of sex now that his bandmates aren’t around to chastise him. That thought makes Kyung’s stomach turn and his fingers clench.

It’s been months now but Kyung still feels as lonely as the day Jiho packed his bags and left.

//

“Month three and counting.” Kyung mutters to himself, alone in his room as always.

If he’s being honest with himself, he probably doesn’t know his bandmates as well as he should. He knows Taeil and Jihoon are joined at the hip, he knows Minhyuk has a dance crew that he runs in his spare time, but he doesn’t know the intimate little facts about them that he really should. Christ, he doesn’t even know the maknae’s favourite colour.

He rolls over in bed to face the wall. It’s because of Jiho. He had blinders on when it had come to the older man; so content was he to follow at the younger’s feet like a lapdog, come when called, be a _good_ little boy, all for a spare kiss or maybe a sneaky handjob every now and then, he has missed out on the opportunity to get to know these men, these _brothers_ , and he’s been living with them for three years for chrissakes.

Maybe he’s being bitter now that Jiho has gone, but it’s easy to presume Jiho never loved him in the first place when he has just fucked off like all those times they kissed, all those times Kyung found himself aching and hard just at the _thought_ of Jiho, all those times Jiho woke Kyung up in the middle of the night whispering, ‘hyung, touch me,’ didn’t matter.

It’s not like there was a definite _end_ , either. Maybe if Jiho had just point-blank said to him, “Kyung, I don’t love you anymore. Please leave me alone”, Kyung would be able to cope. But as it is, Jiho has just… left things hanging, and Kyung doesn’t know if there is a possibility for anything else. Fuck, they’ve weathered so much already: Thailand, the lawsuit… Through all of that they supported each other, came out the other side even stronger than before. But now…

He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep. None of this will matter someday.

//

Minhyuk is sticking his head around Kyung’s door. “Hey, Kyung.”

Kyung looks up from where he is doodling in a notebook with nothing else to do. It’s a Friday night, he should be going out partying or something, but Jiho was always the one to organise parties, so here he is. He’s surprised to see Minhyuk at his door; they’ve never been particularly close.

“Yeah? What’s up, hyung?” He asks, observing as Minhyuk shuffles nervously.

“We… We were wondering if you would like to come to a bar with us? You have seemed kind of down lately and we wanted to cheer you up.” He blurts rapidly.

Kyung blinks, the pen frozen in midair. _This_ is a shock. It’s not that he doesn’t like Minhyuk and the others, it’s just he’s never been out with them without Jiho. “Who’s we?” He asks stupidly.

“All of us.” Minhyuk looks down, his mouth twisting a little. “Not Jiho, though.”

Instantly, Kyung makes up his mind. He nods and unfolds from the floor. “I’ll come. Thanks for inviting me.”

Minhyuk smiles, his dimples showing, and Kyung can’t help but smile back. It’s nice to feel _wanted_ , to feel that people actually want to spend time with you.

//

To his surprise, Kyung actually enjoys the night out. Well, to start with. They go to a bar and then, once sufficiently uninhibited thanks to large helpings of soju, they go to a noraebang, and sing their hearts out to cheesy 90s ballads and girl group songs.

He’s sipping on a beer watching Taeil butcher a SNSD song – when drunk, the eldest’s voice control goes haywire – and for a moment he actually feels happy. Then he looks around and realises it’s only six, not seven, and if Jiho was here they would be rapping stupidly into the mics, not singing, and a wave of anguish settles over him like a blanket, cold and familiar.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Minhyuk staring at him, his lips turned down into a slight frown and eyes intense. He’s been doing this all night, and Kyung supposes it’s because he’s worried about him.

He stands up precipitously, holding his arms out to get his balance back. “I think I’m going to head home, guys. But thanks for the night out.”

Taeil, Jihoon and Jaehyo don’t even notice – they’re too busy fighting over what song to play next – but Yukwon and Minhyuk look up and smile in unison, start saying their goodbyes.

Even as he leaves the noraebang, he can still feel Minhyuk’s eyes on his back, burning a hole into his clothing. As he spills out into the busy street, filled with groups of people laughing and going about their business together, filled with _couples_ , adoring girls hanging on to their boyfriend’s arms, hurt slides into him like a white-hot blade, slicing his belly open and spilling his secrets everywhere. He’s in a group of people and now a few are starting to recognise him, he can hear their whispers from here, but it doesn’t matter because there’s a hole in his chest where his heart used to be and it hurts, oh, god, it hurts.

He turns and runs, blindly, shouldering aside people rudely, not bothering to say sorry, clutching a hand to his chest.

//

His misery is a disease, clinging to his bones, worming its way into his bloodstream, spilling putrid air into his lungs, making his eyes wither and die, along with his hope.

The night after the bar outing, he had gone to a hardware shop and bought a bolt to put on his door. When the others had realised, they had started banging on it, begging him to let them in. They’re on a break, so they have no commitments or rehearsals to be going to, thankfully, allowing him to lie in bed all day, only leaving to eat or go to the bathroom when he’s sure the others aren’t around.

“Kyung?” A voice calls at the door. He’s pretty sure it’s Minhyuk, but all the sounds have started to blur together into one loud droning noise. He grunts in response.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know what else to do.” He calls, and then comes a voice.

He’ll know that voice until the day he dies, so when Jiho calls out “open the damn door, Park Kyung, and stop being ridiculous,” he sits up, flinging the blankets off him, fists clenching, mouth suddenly dry.

And then an almighty thud hits the door, making the thin walls of the dorm shake, and instantly Kyung knows Jiho is kicking the fucking door down. His combat boots make short work of the cheap bolt and, sure enough, after two more kicks the door flies off its hinges and slams into the floor. Kyung scowls as the dust settles – what a waste of money.

The moment he lays eyes on Jiho he swears the world stops rotating on its axis, his heart stops beating, every form of life on earth freezes – but the moment passes and he’s sitting on his bed, teeth unbrushed, hair dirty and gross, not having changed clothes in a week, and there’s Jiho, hair flawless, makeup impeccable, dressed and going about his life as a real person would, and the difference is staggering.

Minhyuk is hovering in the doorway, hands fluttering as he starts speaking. “I’m really sorry, Kyung, I didn’t know what to do, you wouldn’t come out and we were all worried…”

He is silenced by a glare from Jiho, who then jabs his thumb over his shoulder; Minhyuk gets the message and turns, not before staring at Kyung one last time.

Jiho steps on the door, boots crunching. “Kyung, what the hell are you doing?”

For once, Kyung has no smartass answer, no quip that will make this situation go away, so he huddles back into the blanket and prays, instead.

He hears Jiho’s boots crunch closer, and then the blanket is cruelly ripped away from him. He curls into the fetal position as he hears Jiho tut in disgust. He doesn’t have to look up to see the expression on Jiho’s face – eyes screwed up, lip curled – and it hurts because it’s never been directed at him before.

“Oh, come on Kyung.” Jiho whispers, his voice low and snide, and before Kyung can reply, Jiho slides his arms underneath him and picks the shorter man up, pulling him close to his chest as he strides out of the room.

Kyung is absolutely mortified as Jiho carries him through the dorm, past Minhyuk, eyes bulging, past Taeil, who looks worried, and past Jihoon, who is struggling to hold back laughter. “What the fuck are you doing, Jiho? Put me down.”

Jiho doesn’t reply, only traipses into the bathroom and dumps Kyung unceremoniously into the bathtub, which is filled with cold water.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Kyung splutters, the cold seeping into his skin right away, making him shiver, violently. He stands up to clamber out but Jiho just pushes him right back down again, his mouth twisted cruelly.

“Wake up, Kyung.” He snarls.

“If I was asleep then, I sure am awake now! What the fuck are you doing?” He yells back through chattering teeth.

“You have a commitment! You are one member of seven and you need to grow the fuck up and stop moping around like a child whose favourite toy got taken away.” Jiho booms. “It’s time to move on. It’s been months.” He adds, a bit softer.

“What the fuck was I to you, Jiho?” Kyung stands up and jabs a finger into Jiho’s chest, forcing him back a step. “A quick fuck? For two years? What did you mean all those times you said you loved me, huh? Were you lying?”

“People change!” Jiho roars, right in Kyung’s face now. “I don’t love you anymore, Kyung. Nothing happened. I just changed.”

And there it is; the crushing blow, the one he’s been waiting for for months. His knees give out from underneath him and he splashes back down into the bathtub, sobs wracking his body from the inside out, making his shoulders shake and his eyes scrunch shut. He hears a wail, sees Jiho cover his ears and turn away, head shaking, and vaguely realises it came from him. He flops over onto his back, letting the water wash over his face and mix with his tears, keening softly.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there for, only that at some point, Minhyuk comes in and sees him lying in the bath, eyes shut peacefully as he breathes in and out, tears coming silently now. He vaguely realises Minhyuk is helping him out of the bath, stripping him out of his wet clothes and wrapping him in a huge towel. Any other day he would be self-conscious, but he can’t think, can only shiver, even as the cold bleeds away, even as Minhyuk guides him into his bedroom, dresses him and tucks him into bed.

His last sight before falling into sleep is Minhyuk, hovering over him, hands touching his face softly. And then he’s gone.


	2. Act II; Restoration

**Act II**   
**Restoration**

 

_But I won’t cry for yesterday_   
_There’s an ordinary world somewhere I have to find_   
_As I try to make my way to the ordinary world_   
_I will learn to survive_   
_Red – Ordinary World_

 

“Kyung, I’m going up to the supermarket. Want to come?” Minhyuk asks, hovering in the doorway of the lounge room, trying not to sound concerned, and failing.

It’s been a week since Jiho had humiliated him in an attempt to get him to smarten up. Kyung doesn’t know whether to feel happy or bitter that it snapped him out of his funk; even now, when Jiho doesn’t want anything to do with him, he’s still schooling Kyung, still one-upping him.

Still, he showers every day, and gets out of bed every day. It’s an improvement.

They haven’t asked him much, the five other men; Kyung can tell they were putting their collective heads together to try to solve the problem. He doubts it’s something any other idol group has had to deal with. They had seemed to come up with the solution of ‘leaving it alone’ – they aren’t necessarily avoiding him, but Jihoon blanches white whenever he sees Kyung, and Taeil’s lips turn down at the corners in worry, and that’s all he needs to know.

He looks up at Minhyuk, away from the awards show he was watching, where some rookie girl group from SM was sweeping all the awards. The older man’s eyebrows are drawn together as he waits for an answer. Why he looks up and says yes, he’d love to come, he’ll never know.

//

“I know why I said yes, now.” He announces when they get there and find a whole shelf of pepero staring them right in the face. It’s pretty glorious, actually, considering they went to some shitty little hole-in-the-wall shop to avoid getting recognised.

“Kyung.” Minhyuk warns, his hand enclosing around Kyung’s wrist. “Don’t. I only have forty thousand won for dinner.”

Kyung looks back at Minhyuk, who, he can tell, is trying to hide a smile, and grins as wide as he can, fishing in his pocket for his wallet and holding it up. “But I have a separate budget.”

And he darts away from his hyung, sliding gracefully out from the elder’s grasp as he reaches for him, darts into the candy aisle and stares in wonder. Jiho’s always been strict about junk food in the dorm, especially when they have a comeback imminent, but Jiho isn’t in the dorm now, and there’s no comeback scheduled for months. Hell, this place has candy he’s never even _heard_ of before.

He’s loading up a basket when Minhyuk rounds the corner, trolley almost full already. When he sees the amount of junk food Kyung is planning to purchase, he tuts, and bumps Kyung gently with the trolley. “Now I know why Jiho used to bitch about taking you to the grocery store.” He means it playfully, but the moment the words are out he realises what he’s said and his face goes pale.

Kyung closes his eyes briefly, sucks his lips in as the pain hits him so staggeringly hard he feels like he’s just lost his balance. He clenches the basket tightly as he feels Minhyuk’s hands on his shoulders, and the touch grounds him, gives him something to relate to.

He turns around, forcing Minhyuk back a step, and smirks. “I bet you weren’t meant to say that, were you?”

Minhyuk doesn’t have to say anything; the way his eyes dip to the floor says it all. Kyung rolls his eyes and turns back to the chips. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m not going to have a mental breakdown right here, in the middle of the candy aisle.”

“Sorry. It’s just… We don’t really know how to deal with this.” Minhyuk says, from somewhere behind him. He hears the rustling of plastic bags.

Kyung shrugs, one shoulder lifting up to his ear. “I don’t know how to deal with this either. One day at a time, hey?”

He turns and sees Minhyuk offering two cup noodles, Kyung’s favourite flavour. “Peace offering?” The older man asks, smiling wryly.

“Did Jiho tell you that the way to my heart is through my stomach, too?” He replies, grabbing a cup and throwing it in his basket, smirking as he sees Minhyuk go pale, reaching for Kyung automatically.

“Kidding!” He sings as he skips away.

It’s a coping mechanism, to joke about everything, and it’s worked for him all his life so he’s not about to stop now. Besides, it’s worth it. He likes making Minhyuk come undone a little – he seems so prim sometimes.

//

“Taeil hyung.” Kyung slurs from the floor. “Where is your shirt?”

The six of them are draped around the living room, drinking. Jihoon had gathered everyone together and called it a ‘bonding experience’ – aka ‘let’s bring Kyung out of his shell’ – not that he minds, though, because alcohol lets him temporarily forget.  
He looks over at the oldest member, who is lying on the couch, taking up all of it, completely shirtless. He shrugs. “Took it off.”

“But why?” Kyung asks, confused. “You hate showing your body.”

Taeil’s mouthpiece, Jihoon, sits up and shakes his head. “On stage. Not here. He walks around the dorm naked sometimes.”

Kyung and Yukwon erupt into giggles at that. Minhyuk, who is sitting on a chair backwards just behind Kyung, looks down at them and nods sagely. “It’s true. And Jihoon takes photos of it.”

Jihoon’s ears turn pink, a sure sign he’s embarrassed. Taeil overhears Minhyuk’s comment, though, and swats lazily at the maknae. Kyung hiccups and looks around. “How long has he been doing that for?”

Jaehyo looks up from his phone. “What?”

“Walking around the dorm naked. How long has Taeil been doing that for?” He repeats to no one in particular.

Jaehyo scrunches up his face – it takes a while for him to process things while inebriated, and it’s actually kind of adorable – and hums. “A few years? I dunno, he’s just always been doing it. Makes it easy to see when he gets new ink.”

“Then why didn’t I know this until now?” He’s upset now, the soju rebelling in his stomach, clenching the bottle tight.

They all look at each other, their eyes communicating something, but they aren’t _saying_ anything, damn it, they’re all silent. When did they get the ability to communicate without words?

“Say it.” He growls, eyes flashing dangerously. “Spit it out.”

Minhyuk sighs and starts playing with Kyung’s hair languidly. “Because, Kyung, you were never here. Or when you were, you weren’t paying attention.”

“Oh.” He replies, suddenly feeling very small.

They have their in-groups, they know each other’s secrets, and for two damn years he’s been on the outside looking in, ignoring them all in favour of Jiho. It stings a little bit, and he realises, belatedly as they all stare at him with worried looks on their faces, that he’s crying, tears making their way slowly down his face.

“Damn it. _Damn_ it. You guys know I always cry when drunk.” He smiles, trying to lighten the mood – _please, please take the bait_ – and Jihoon cracks a grin and scoots a little closer, brushes a tear off his face gently.

“Don’t cry, hyung.” He whispers. “Be happy! We’re all here.”

He realises Minhyuk is still playing with his hair as he mutters, “everyone that matters, anyway…” _almost_ quietly enough for Kyung not to hear.

He ignores that and pours another slosh of soju into his cup – a shot would be severely underestimating it – and raises it in the air. “To us!”

The others – Jihoon with his sippy cup full of beer, Taeil lying on the lounge half-asleep, Jaehyo glued to his phone screen, playing some stupid game, Yukwon lying flat on his back staring at the ceiling, and Minhyuk playing with his hair all murmur half-assed responses.

But that’s okay, he thinks as he looks around. It’s okay, and it’s okay that they are all starting to drift off already, and it’s okay that it’s quiet. It’s okay, and he’s okay, and he thinks to himself, leaning back against Minhyuk’s chair, _maybe this is what it’s like to heal_.


	3. Act III; Redemption

**Act III**   
**Redemption**

_That you and I were made for this_   
_I was made to taste your kiss_   
_We were made to never fall away_   
_Never fall away_   
_Civil Twilight – Letters From the Sky_

 

“Get out of my room, Minhyuk!” Kyung yells, slamming his whole body against the door (hoping the hinges will hold this time), as he feels Minhyuk do the same.

“Kyung!” The older man whines, slamming a fist against the door. “Let me in! This is important and I need your clothes.”

Kyung darts away and manages to wedge his desk chair under the door handle, which rattles furiously. “You wouldn’t even fit into my clothes, dumbass.” He calls.

Of course Minhyuk had come barrelling into his room right after he had just got out of the shower; he had just managed to shut the door in time before he saw anything _really_ embarrassing. And now he’s here, banging on the door, pleading to borrow Kyung’s clothes. Kyung’s not really sure when they got close enough to swap clothes, but it’s not like that matters right now.

“You have some nice shirts that might fit. Come on, Kyung.” He pleads through the wood. “This audition is important!”

“You won’t get the part. Your acting is…” He teases, but is cut off by the sound of a furious rattle and turns to see the chair slide across the floor as the door opens. He scowls furiously. That’s fucking _twice_ now that stupid door has betrayed him.

Minhyuk darts in and begins flipping through the dress shirts hanging up in his wardrobe, babbling quickly. “Thanks, Kyung, I’m really desperate because you know how Taeil locks his room, normally I’d borrow his shirts but he went out and I don’t know when he’ll be coming back, so you’re my last resort…”

But Kyung isn’t paying attention, because he’s admiring the way Minhyuk’s back muscles, toned from years of dancing, ripple and quiver as he reaches for a purple shirt, and then flips past it to the next one.

 _Kyung_. He warns himself. _Don’t do this. Don’t look at him like that._ But his skin is so tanned and smooth, and the muscles underneath it so tight and Kyung wonders, he’s just innocently curious is all, what it’d feel like to touch, so he stretches out his fingers –

“Thanks, Kyung.” Minhyuk whirls around, a red, short-sleeved button up in his hands, inadvertently brushing away Kyung’s outstretched hand. “You’re a life saver.”

He glances up and down Kyung’s body, just a pass, but Kyung’s eyes are glued to his face, watching every minute change, so he doesn’t miss Minhyuk’s mouth twitch, doesn’t miss the way he blinks deliberately. He _definitely_ doesn’t miss the way Minhyuk pointedly winks at him, before swishing out of the room.

//

The front door is shoved opened so violently it slams against the wall with a loud _thud_ and Kyung shoots straight into the air in shock, his heart pounding. He sticks his head around the corner, looking to see who it is –

And Jiho’s standing there, beanie and sunglasses on, wearing those stupid combat boots, and Kyung swears his heart stops pounding, just stops altogether. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Minhyuk emerge from his room, but shakes his head minutely.

“What are you doing here?” Kyung asks, his voice stable, not wobbling once, as much as it causes a dull ache to see Jiho.

(A dull ache is better than a sharp slice, maybe he’s getting better at this, but he can’t think about that right now.)

Jiho looks down his sunglasses at Kyung, snaps his gum obnoxiously. “Checking on you.”

Kyung folds his arms defiantly, raises his chin. “It’s been months. Why now?”

“They’ve been telling me how you are.” Jiho juts his chin in the direction of the bedrooms. “Thought I’d see it in person.”

Jiho’s cold, disinterested manner snaps something inside of him and he feels his rage growing. “Jesus, Jiho, when did you start being such a cruel asshole?”

He feels, rather than sees, Minhyuk come up behind him, feels the older man’s hand on his wrist, communicating a million different things – _careful, Kyung_ and _are you okay?_ and _I’m here if you need backup_.

Jiho looks genuinely surprised at Kyung’s outburst, giving barely a cursory glance to Minhyuk. “Kyung. I didn’t mean to come off like that. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit you’re sorry. I’m disgusted with you. I’m disgusted with _myself_ for ever falling in love with someone like you.” He snarls, fists clenching. Minhyuk’s hand tightens on his wrist, the touch restraining now.

Jiho shrugs. “Okay. I really do apologise. But get a hold of yourself. You’ve got time, still, but it’s running out, Kyung, as is my patience.”

“Time for what?” Kyung knows the answer but asks anyway.

“Time before our comeback. It’s in July.”

And he’s gone.

//

[2:09 am] Minhyukkie hyung: Can you forgive him?  
[2:09 am] Kyung: I don’t know… I guess I have to.  
[2:10 am] Minhyukkie hyung: You know, this happened to me once.  
[2:10 am] Kyung: You fell in love with your bandmate, was in a relationship with him for two years, and then your heart broke when he left you?  
[2:11 am] Minhyukkie hyung: … Well, no. But I did have an ex-girlfriend who cheated on me once. I felt betrayed.  
[2:11 am] Kyung: Did you forgive her?  
[2:11 am] Minhyukkie hyung: I actually ran into her the other day. She was with the guy she cheated on me with. They looked happy, so I was happy. So yes, I did forgive her.  
[2:13 am] Kyung: How?  
[2:13 am] Minhyukkie hyung: Time.  
[2:16 am] Minhyukkie hyung: What are you doing? Why are you making all that noise?  
[2:17 am] Kyung: Sorry, I was hungry. What are YOU doing?  
[2:17 am] Minhyukkie hyung: Nothing. Trying to get to sleep, but I can’t, because an annoying dongsaeng is messaging me. Plus, I don’t think the heater works in this room. I’m freezing.  
[2:17 am] Kyung: one sec  
[2:17 am] Minhyukkie hyung: ???

[9:37 am] Kyung: I’m going for a coffee, want one?  
[9:37 am] Minhyukkie hyung: My bed smells like you  
[9:38 am] Kyung: Okay, but want a coffee?  
[9:38 am] Minhyukkie hyung: Yes please. Kyung, last night me saying I was cold wasn’t an invitation to crawl into bed with me, you know.  
[9:40 am] Kyung: that’s what best friends do

//

“Kyung!” Minhyuk bursts into his bedroom without so much as a greeting. “I got the part!”

“Seriously?” Kyung yelps, leaping off the bed and straight into Minhyuk’s arms, hugging him broadly, a grin stretching his face. Never mind that Minhyuk smells so damn good, never mind that he can feel Minhyuk’s muscles underneath his fingers, never mind about all that because he’s been burned once and he’s not going back for more.

“I am so happy, Kyung! It’s such a fun part. Will you come to watch me?” Minhyuk asks, placing Kyung down on the floor but not moving his arms from Kyung’s waist.

“Of course! We all will. It’ll be fun.” Kyung smiles.

Minhyuk is still smiling, but something has changed in his face now; Kyung can see his eyebrows draw together, and his mouth turn down minutely. They’re tiny changes, but he knows Minhyuk well enough now to notice them. He feels Minhyuk’s hands tighten on his waist and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Kyung.” Minhyuk breathes, and detaches himself carefully from Kyung’s hands, backs out of the door slowly.

The moment the older man is out of sight, Kyung buries his face in his hands and groans, long and loud. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. What is that American saying? ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me’? That’s how he feels right now.

//

[1:58 am] Minhyukkie hyung: I’m cold  
[1:58 am] Kyung: :)

//

Kyung walks into Minhyuk’s room and flops down onto the bed dramatically. “I had my first recording session today.”

Minhyuk looks up from his tiny desk, where he’s going over his lines, and frowns. “Shit. How was it?”

“Yeah, how was it? We all want to know.” Jihoon rumbles from the doorway. “They sent me to spy on you two.”

Kyung sits up and runs a hand through his hair, smiles at Jihoon, who grins back. “Maknae, you’re doing a pretty shit job at spying. It was okay. It was awkward at first and I couldn’t rap properly, so he just put his hand on my knee and asked me if I was okay. And he was nice about it. We talked. We cleared the air.”

Jihoon grins even wider. “Do you feel better now, hyung?”

“Yah, Jihoonie, seeing your face made me feel better.” He teases, watches as the maknae blushes. “Now go and report back.”

“Were you lying to him?” Minhyuk accuses him the moment the maknae disappears, eyes narrowed.

Kyung shrugs, looking down to avoid that piercing gaze. “No. We did talk, we did clear the air. We’re not… we’re not back to what we used to be, but we will be. In time. Thanks, hyung.”

Minhyuk smiles, his dimples showing, and Kyung has to restrain himself from leaning off the bed and touching them. “For what?”

Kyung shrugs. “For everything. Now, want some help with those lines?”

Relief shows in every line on Minhyuk’s face. “Yes, please, I’m struggling.”

Kyung quashes the urge to grab Minhyuk and kiss him, instead leans over and snatches the script from his hyung’s hands.

//

“Come on, guys, we have to watch it, it’s tradition.” Jiho whines, pointing at the dorm TV. “It’ll be bad luck if we stop now.”

Kyung grumbles as he flops onto the lounge, next to Jihoon, who smiles excitedly at him, pink hair sticking up crazily. It’s the morning of their MV release for _Her_ , and Jiho has dragged them all out of bed to watch the stupid MV.

“Jiho, do we really have to?” Kyung asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Non negotiable!” Jiho cries, pressing play.

As he watches Jihoon on the screen, suave, and Jihoon next to him, wriggling like an excited puppy, it occurs to him that as nice as it was, with the six of them, it wasn’t quite right without Jiho, he can see that now. Together, with the seven of them in the same room, the aura is one of happiness (and tiredness). It feels warm.

As Minhyuk, leaning on the opposite wall, catches his eye and winks, the warmth spreads to his face, and he looks down, trying to ground himself, reminding himself what happened last time he did this, last time he trusted someone.

//

Minhyuk is sitting at his desk examining his eyebrows, moving his head back and forth in the mirror to see how they catch the light. He catches Kyung’s eyes in the mirror and grimaces. “I hate these stupid blue eyebrows. Why did they pick me to experiment on?”

Kyung hovers around Minhyuk, not quite sure where to put his hands as he looks at Minhyuk through the mirror and smiles ruefully. “Could be worse. I don’t think pink hair would suit you.”

“Probably more than these damn eyebrows suit me.” Minhyuk grumbles, standing up and turning around, expecting Kyung to move, but he doesn’t.

They are startlingly close. Kyung can see every single hair in Minhyuk’s – stupid, if he’s being honest – blue eyebrows, can see his hyung’s lips part and shut again.

 _Fool me once._ Kyung runs his hand up Minhyuk’s arm, coming to rest on his cheek, his thumb stroking gently. He sees Minhyuk’s eyes widen in realisation. _Shame on you._

 _Fool me twice._ The air is so tense he could cut it with a knife but still he hesitates – even as Minhyuk snakes his arms around Kyung’s waist, even as he tilts his head a little bit, even as he pulls Kyung closer. _Shame on me._

Their lips meet, and it’s soft, and Minhyuk tastes so damn sweet, and as their mouths open and their tongues touch it’s the promise of a new beginning Kyung has been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "all y'all" i'm fucking aussie and i write like an american i'm smdh
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> hooooolllllyyyy shit this ran away from me. I saw a friend post that response to a question (that I didn't ask) and was like woooaaaahhhh i could totes write a fic with this... so I did. except i didn't realise that meant 6000 words (4k of which I did in one fucking night). anyway, i hope you enjoyed
> 
> and I hope every zikyung/zico stan out there isn't hunting me down


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